


They Almost Made It

by howdydarlin



Series: Always [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: (all will be corrected in part 2), (play eye-spy the extra content), (they don't break up and no one dies), I include a few extra tid-bits of info here and there that were pulled from Nora's extra content, M/M, Neil Josten & Andrew Minyard Adopt, Post-Canon, Sad Ending, message me on tumblr if you want to know more about this sad ending before reading!, parent!andreil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-05 16:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14622267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howdydarlin/pseuds/howdydarlin
Summary: Andrew and Neil are nearly forty, retired, and trying to recover from a lifetime of being an athlete. They have more permanent aches than any forty year old should, and less PT than they probably should. Despite it all though, they're getting one more step down the road toalways. Renee's phone call asking Andrew and Neil to foster a kid for the time of his parents' trial though, makes Andrew and Neil reevaluate whatalwaysis.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FoxsoulCourt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxsoulCourt/gifts).



> This is a commsion for [@foxsoulcourt](http://foxsoulcourt.tumblr.com). Thanks so much for supporting me and my writing and being so patient <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew and Neil foster a kid.

The anchorman’s face paints a picture of concern as he reads the headline at the bottom of the screen: “Knox and Moreau announce their final game will be this season.” He turns to his co-anchor and continues the story, “You know Carol, this was expected. Kevin Day was the first to go, and it’s been like dominoes since. An era is coming to an end, and I gotta say I’m still sad to see it go.”

Carol leans forward on their shared table, “I agree. Exy has never been more alive off that court than it has since this generation stepped on. With Knox and Moreau stepping down, there’s maybe a handful left of them. It really feels like the end of something. It makes me wonder what’s around the corner for exy.”

The anchorman, Harvey, laughs, “Only time will tell. Fortunately, the two soon-to-be retired men agreed to an interview with Dave about what’s around the corner for them. Dave?”

The screen switches to a lively man in a checkered suit—worn for attention not style, clearly—holding a microphone to the familiar faces of Jean and Jeremy. 

Neil listens only briefly through the interview; he’s more focused on the other side of the split screen, a silent montage of their playing history. Some of it consists of photos—stolen from instagrams, press, and paparazzi—and the rest their best moments on the court. Occasional interviews appear, subtitles on the bottom to forgive their lack of audio. 

It’s crazy to Neil that the station is capable of surmising an entire career, an entire life, by throwing together a few minute slideshow. Even more so because Neil and Andrew are a part of it. There’s team photos from court where he spots two players standing in line with those who kneel, interviews where Jean and Neil keep each other balanced—Wymack texted him the first time Jean and he shared an interview, _If I knew that’s all it took to keep you in line I’d have signed him, trouble and all,’_ —and instagrams of pairs of feet (from the left: Kevin’s, Jeremy’s, Jean’s, Andrew’s, and Neil’s) at the gym. 

They’d done something similar for Andrew and Neil’s retirement, but it’s strange that he’d be a part of anyone other than Andrew’s. He’s nearly forty, and still he’s shocked at his presence in his family’s life, especially the members of more distance than the foxes. It’s no longer as threatening, however, to know he’s left his mark. No, now it’s settling. 

Neil pulls his phone from the stand beside him and snaps a picture to Jean and Jeremy of the screen with the caption, _‘you’re officially old news.’_

Their replies are quick because the interview is clearly pre-recorded. Jeremy’s is first with his face in an exaggerated frown, _‘i am officially not your friend anymore.’_ Neil responds with a shrug emoji before opening Jean’s. 

Jean’s is a picture of his sock-clad feet on beige carpet, _‘unlikely. thought u were, but i still saw ur ugly mug in that interview.’_ Neil sends the middle finger emoji and a face very similar ot Jeremy’s. 

Andrew and Neil had only retired the season before—less than a year ago they had played their last games. Good credit for playing by Ichirou's rules had allowed them to leave together rather than wait for Andrew’s knee to give out or for Neil’s shoulder to tear. 

Now their days consist of less exy and interviews, and more relaxing and charities. Most importantly though, is the two of them feeling out the _always_ laid out in front of them.

Presently, _always_ is Andrew coming in the door from his physical therapy appointment, sulking and sore. He kicks off his shoes at the matt and meets Neil’s eyes on the couch before asking, “Beer?”

Neil can see the tired sag to Andrew’s shoulders and dried sweat on his shirt, but he says anyway, “It’s not even five.”

Andrew replies with a grunt and his back turned to Neil on his way to the fridge, “That mean no?”

“It means I’ll just steal some of yours.”

Andrew likes having a permanent injury even less than Neil does. It’s a hinderance and it only reminds them that it’s a lot harder to fight back than it used to be. Some nights it takes work to remind one another that this is okay, because they don’t need to fight anymore. This takes the form of cigarettes on their deck in the summer, kisses against lips in the night, and, currently, letting go and relaxing with Neil, reminding himself of the domesticity that is their life. 

He can hear the sigh that pulls itself from Andrew’s mouth, and then the soft landing of the fridge door closing. Neil makes himself busy finding something other than ESPN to watch while Andrew pops the cap off the beer. He settles on a rerun of _Elementary_ because Andrew likes to point out inconsistencies in the televised version of investigative proceedings. It’s something to keep the cobwebs off of his degree, and Neil thinks it’s interesting as a general rule. 

Andrew walks from the kitchen to the living room with a careful step that Neil knows is trying to favor his left knee. He can all but hear the muscles strain as Andrew lowers himself on the couch next to Neil. He offers as soon as Andrew’s down, “You can put your feet on my lap.” It will hurt more to have his knee bent and resting the weight onto the floor, but he’d sit there all the same unless Neil offered. 

Andrew’ feet slip easily from the floor and to his lap. Neil puts his left hand at Andrew’s crossed ankles and his right at Andrew’s left knee, the injured one. His thumb rubs at the crook of it, just a little pressure through the black joggers he wears. He smooths over the edge of the brace that’s no doubt uncomfortable after a workout, but also is painful to forgo. 

A few minutes pass in silence, Andrew drinking and the both of them watching, before Andrew offers the beer to Neil with a, “Why do they always pretend like government systems are that easy to hack? Not saying they’re impenetrable, but they sure as fuck don’t take thirty seconds.”

He takes a drink and puts the bottle back in Andrew’s hand, “Episodes are only 42 minutes.”

“They do time skips all the time. Poor rebuttal, Neil.”

“You’re plying me with alcohol. My mind is addled.” Neil lets his head fall back against the couch, looking to over to Andrew. 

Andrew pushes his face toward the screen again with his nearest hand and says, “It’s not the alcohol. Old age has made you absolutely awful at comebacks.”

Neil doesn’t take the bait, just squeezes Andrew’s knee, “There are worse things to lose practice of.”

* * *

Neil’s hand is intertwined with Andrew’s over the console. The air conditioning is on full blast—a fluke hot flash at the end of November catching them by surprise—and classic rock hums through the speakers. Their stomachs are full with dinner and Andrew hadn’t needed his brace all day. It’s a rare day where they don’t feel like retired athletes, but rather almost-forty-year-olds. 

“Stop by Kroger before home. We’re almost out of cat food.”

Neil complies and pulls off at the exit before theirs on the freeway in favor of the store. Kroger is only a few turns away, and he drops Andrew off at the front doors to keep the car running in the parking lot. 

He’s only gone a few minutes, but his phone, left in the cup holder, chimes. Neil pulls it out to see if it’s important, but it’s only Renee asking Andrew to call her when he has a minute. Neil locks the screen and returns it to its place before spotting Andrew and popping the trunk. 

The car jolts a little when Andrew tosses the bag of food in the back, and again when Andrew shuts the trunk. Neil relays Renee’s message when Andrew is pulling himself into the passenger seat. Andrew pulls his phone out to type out a reply after situating himself and buckling up. 

They get home a couple of minutes later, Neil grabbing the cat food and Andrew waving his phone at Neil to signal that he’s going to call Renee. He sits on the porch step and puts the phone up to his ear. Neil just nods and pulls the door shut behind him. 

The cats curl themselves at his ankles as he maneuvers the bag through the house. They have plenty of food in their bowls, but the promise of more has them begging. He shoos them away with a light tap of his heel and takes the bag to the laundry room (also used for pet storage).

He takes the extra time to get ready for bed; showering, brushing his teeth, putting pajamas on, and, when he realizes Andrew is still outside on the phone, settling into the mattress. 

He intends to wait up for Andrew, but fails after only a few minutes to keep his eyes open. He’s not even really aware that he’s done it until his eyes open blearily to the feel of Andrew shuffling under the covers. He isn’t sure how long he fell asleep for, but he doesn’t care. He just closes his eyes and pulls himself to Andrew’s side.

* * *

It’s been three days that Neil has felt the tension beneath Andrew’s skin. It’s been sitting there since his phone call with Renee. He hadn’t realized that night in his brief stint awake, but he had in the morning. On its own, it had just chalked up to a bad day, but then one day became two, and then three. 

On the morning of the fourth, Neil grabs the car keys and leaves a note on the table. Simple. 

_out for the day.  
n._

It’s Neil’s way of giving Andrew the space to figure out what he needs—whether it be something from Neil, a trip to his therapist’s, Kelly, or something else entirely. 

He leaves with his gym bag, his wallet, and his phone. Between the three, he’s got enough to keep him occupied for most of the day. 

He starts with a much needed and long ignored session with the physical therapist. His aches and pains haven’t gotten as severe as Andrew’s, but he’d still avoided this for too long. 

For Neil, it’s mostly regulated exercising, but his muscles feel like adamant until Daniel places a hand on the front of his right shoulder for a more comfortable angle. 

Neil is in the middle of a grimace over the second set of curls when Daniel asks, “Have you been doing your stretches every day?”

Neil says, a bit guiltily, “Maybe not everyday,” like he’s the dentist asking about his flossing habits. 

Daniel tsks and adjusts his hand placement to wipe the grimace away from Neil’s face, “If you’re gonna go so long between sessions, you gotta do your stretches. Otherwise the big, famous exy-player is gonna be the stupid, overworked exy-player who has to have surgery.”

Neil knows this, he does, but it’s just that he’s just as bad as Andrew. He hates being reminded that his body is aging and needs extra maintenance. 

Daniel continues on, seeing the look in Neil’s eyes as response enough, “Have you at least started eating leaner? I’ve seen what Andrew logs—that shit is bad for a twenty year-old, let alone you two fuckin’ seniors.”

He does one last curl before setting the bar on the floor and defending himself with, “Half the time we share food—he just happens to eat mostly awful things.”

Daniel grabs the spray bottle and rag from next to the weights station to start wiping down the equipment, “You gotta give me something, Neil. Give me like, five good days a week. You’re too old and too athletic to die of a coronary.”

“Three,” he counters.

“Four.”

“Fine,” he relents, “but you can break this deal to Andrew in his next session. I won’t be telling him to cut it out.”

“Hey, I can handle being thrown under the bus if it means you two don’t die on my watch.”

Despite the reality check Daniel gave Neil and the exhaustion that’s creeping up on him, by the end of the session he feels looser than he has in week. He doesn’t even mind having to shower in the the PT showers—he’s still not a fan of public showers.

He barely dries himself off and is still half-wet when he throws his extra change of clothes on from his gym bag. It’s still a little warm out from the odd heat wave, so Neil just rolls the windows down in the car to dry him the rest of the way. 

It’s half past twelve, so Neil pulls into a subway thinking that it’s one of the healthier fast food options that might come close to appeasing Daniel. He’s purposeful in eating his food slowly because any extra time out helps. He wants to give Andrew as much time as he can. He even sits on his phone after finishing his sub reading a couple articles and scrolling through his twitter. 

He wastes the better part of an hour sitting there before he grows uncomfortable about loitering and decides to head to the community center. They’re always asking Neil to stop by for the kids’ classes—asking for him to mess around with them and sign stuff—and when he’s feeling good is better than never. 

He’s not two steps in the sliding doors before the manager, Jessica, is putting her arms around him and grinning, “Neil, always a nice surprise.” She pulls back, “Timely too. A slot’s about to time out. They haven’t left yet, so you can still catch them.”

Neil follows after her, leading him to the court she mentioned, number two. She’s right that the team is still there, packing up just outside the court, but not quite done. 

Jessica leaves him at the door with a, “Have fun,” and a wave. 

He takes a few steps in the room before a kid, a boy with a scrape on his nose and crooked glasses around his ears, screams his name and pulls his closest team member to his feet. It’s only a minute more before nearly twenty ids are offering up their equipment for him to sign. 

One of the kids in the back, he isn’t sure who, hollars something about seeing Neil play, and before he knows it they all are asking him to. It spreads a smile across his face to see the one-minded structure of kids, and into asking to borrow a racquet—fortunate that he can use a kid’s racquet. 

There’s several that find their way forward, but Neil grabs the one closest to his size and a spare helmet before entering the court. He shuts the door behind him because he really shouldn’t be doing anything—even the drills he’s about to do—without padding, but even so he definitely shouldn’t leave the door open. 

He just plays around bouncing the ball off the court wall and into the net, completing no more than party tricks that will entertain them and keep him from taking a limb out with a stray ball. He does this for a few minutes before calling it because he isn’t sure when the next time slot starts. He returns the helmet and stick to their owners who grin with pride at Neil Josten using their equipment. 

He jogs over to the drinking fountain after to let them finish packing up, figures they should get off the court. They can talk in the hallway, which they do. 

Neil’s there for nearly an hour answering questions, first with the kids, and then with their parents at pick up. He signs a few things for them because he’s got ink to spare and nothing gives him more joy than seeing exy alive and thriving in the hearts of so many—even just a little league team and its families. 

After though, there’s little else for him to do with the day. It’s a Sunday, and most things are closed, so he heads for the movies. He spends a couple bucks on the movie with the longest playing time—some superhero movie that he isn’t caught up on the previous ones of. He follows it well enough though. 

It’s late enough by the time that he gets out, almost six, that he can justify ending the day. He adds a few extra minutes by going five under on the way home, much to the aggravation of the CR-V behind him, who passes him with an angry glare out their window. 

There’s only so much to prolong the inevitable though, and eventually Neil is in their driveway and getting out of the car in hopes that Andrew was able to sort out what he needs. 

Andrew is watching tv when Neil gets in, the news. His hair is damp and it looks a couple shades darker with the weight of the water. There are drops of it on his shoulders. Neil tells himself to shut up because it’s really not the time to hyper analyze Andrew’s looks. He’ll probably just end up with a very cold shower tonight if he does. 

Neil is still sliding off his shoes when Andrew speaks. 

“Renee says she’s got this kid, one of her strays.”

Neil pauses, his gaze caught in Andrew’s like a puzzle. He’s confused; the process of taking his shoes off becomes halted with it. He’s good at putting things together, but thisn’t isn’t something he thought Andrew was interested in. But then, he supposes Andrew’s been busy adopting strays his whole life. 

“Yeah?” he says a little shakily, and then, with a little more ground to walk on, “Must be special if you’re mentioning them.” He doesn’t know where the line is, but he’s certain he’s walking it. His last shoe finally comes off and he approaches the couch, careful to leave a cushion between them when he sits. 

“He’s something. He’s in Renee’s care until his parents’ hearing is over—bad folks. Apparently,” Andrew says like it’s some hot piece of gossip, “it’s been dangerous for Renee to have him. She wants to know if we’ll have him—says we’ll be compensated.”

“And you’d like to do it because you want to be compensated?” Neil searches Andrew’s stare looking for the truth only to find his eyes are steady as ever. Despite the wet dog look he’s sporting, he looks level-headed and sure. 

“We have money.”

It’s an admission that Andrew is offering with careful word, waiting for Neil to dissect it. The problem with growing up in a life where people shove honesty at you with their fists is that you come to expect it. 

Andrew wants very little, but he’s been thinking about wanting this for four days. He spent all day thinking about it in Neil’s absence, and finally shoved the confession toward him with the expectation that Neil would throw it away. 

That’s the problem with _always_. It makes you hopeful. It makes you happy. _Always_ isn’t just for Neil though, it’s for Andrew and it’s for this kid. 

“Okay,” passes through his lips with a weight that pulls them into the cushion between them. Andrew’s kiss is all consuming and tastes like desperation, honesty, and _always_.

* * *

“His name is Kyle. Kyle Jensen.”

Renee’s voice is light on the other end of the phone, and Neil can tell it’s a relief to her to finally have a solution. The three of them, Renee, Andrew, and Neil, know all too well what the system does for kids. Andrew and Neil are a promise of something else. 

Andrew and neil are sitting at the dining room table, Neil with his legs crossed and knee touching Andrew’s thigh, and Andrew with his legs spread to the chair across from him to keep his knee straight. They’re close enough still that it isn’t just their knee and thigh that touch, but their shoulders too. Andrew’s lunging in black sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, Neil in already in jeans and a t-shirt from his after-run shower earlier. 

They sit half leaning on each other and the phone sitting face up on the table between them while Renee continues on, telling them about Kyle’s parents. Neil doesn’t get some of it though, he’s too busy feeling an itching thought in the back of his head that sounds too much like Nathaniel telling him to run. 

Kyle’s father is a powerful man with enough people on his side to make him a feared one as well. His mother is more of a cleaner, she takes care of problems for Kyle’s father, up to and including Kyle himself. Since their arrest, people closer to either of them have heard that Kyle plans to testify and want to take him out of the equation. Suffice to say, it isn’t exactly slick work to keep him at Renee’s anymore, and she can’t keep him in a dangerous situation. 

Neil wants to hear that, but for the time being, it’s all too much for him to. The itch feels like it’s growing bigger and he thinks he might need to go for a job around the block to get it out of his system until Andrew’s hand is around his own, rubbing circles into and in between his knuckles. He thanks Andrew by leaning into him more before retreating to their half-touch. 

Feeling a little more capable of discussing it, Neil asks, “How is he handling it all?” If Neil’s reminded of old habits this far away from his past, he can’t imagine what Kyle is feeling; no one is holding Kyle’s hand on their thigh, rubbing away old wounds. They’re having him sign papers and taking his statements. 

“He’s been,” she pauses, figuring how best to say it, “quiet. I think he’s put up a lot of boundaries since his parents’ arrest—understandably—and they’re very close to him, his parents and the walls. He’s a tough one though.”

The conviction with which she describes Kyle is enough to loosen the itch from him completely. He’s seen too many people in the system who have lost their drive, but Renee hasn’t. She has an undying belief in her kids, to a fault maybe, but it makes her no less kind. The system is a dreadful thing, but the people in it? They give him home on occasion.

“We won’t break him, Renee,” Andrew says, half joke and half promise. 

“No,” she agrees, “I don’t think you will.”

Quickly after that they start talking logistics. How long will the paperwork take? _Around a week. We’re trying to get him situated as fast as possible._ Do you have a scanner—that will be fastest? _Yes._ When is a good time for getting him? _Night time, it’s easier to do this under the radar. We can meet halfway._

Renee ends the call with a quick promise to text them when she emails the paperwork. Andrew clicks the ‘end call’ button and it feels like a weight on his chest—not uncomfortable, but rather, noticeable. It feels sort of like when he signed the name Neil Josten for the first time and it wasn’t a lie.

* * *

A week, that’s how long they have—give or take a day—to clear out the guest bedroom. It’s not exactly filled, but Andrew had said the room is Kyle’s. Neil identifies with memories of homes that weren’t his. Photos of a family he wasn’t a part of and blank walls with no history behind them. No, Kyle can make his own place here, rather than try and squeeze where there didn’t used to be room.

They keep the bed sheets because Kyle needs something to sleep with before they can go shopping and let him pick out his own, but virtually everything else is moved. There’s the cat bed—King will just have to find it in his own time—that they move to their room; then the bookshelf—a far more laborious project—that they move to stacks around the house; and the few pictures on the wall that Andrew removes the hooks from and replaces in the living room. 

By the end of the day, the room looks like a ghost town. It went from lived-in to abandoned in only a few hours of work. 

“You don’t think it’s too much gone?” Neil asks Andrew, the two of them standing in the doorway. Should they have left the books?

“No,” Andrew leans his shoulder into Neil’s space, “He gets a blank slate to work with. Maybe it sucks the first night, but after that he’s got his own space to do whatever with.”

Neil hums in response and turns to face Andrew’s neck. They’re close enough that his breath comes out against the shell of Andrew’s ear. His mouth turns up at the corners as he watches goosebumps spread across the area. He considers messing with Andrew, but doesn’t get to a complete decision before Andrew’s palm is at the back of his neck and turning him toward his lips.

* * *

They get the notifications all at once, four chimes between the two of them. Once for Andrew’s email, once for Neil’s, once for Andrew’s text, and once for Neil’s. 

**Renee; 8:53pm  
sent the docs :)**

It takes a few minutes for Andrew to pull up the computer and print the documents. It takes longer than that to actually fill them out—information not only about their backgrounds, but their finances and references. They’re up until nearly midnight drinking coffee, signing their name, filling out amounts, and making phone calls for last minute references (Kevin, and Coach Baiger). 

They scan and email the documents back to Renee with a quick text letting her know before dragging their tired limbs up the stairs and into bed. They’re too tired to do much, so they situate themselves close to each other with palms at each other’s sides feeling each breath in and out. It’s as effective as counting sheeps, and their eyes close easily.

* * *

**Renee; 9:29 am  
you’ll get an email later, but wanted to officially tell you it’s a go!**

**Andrew; 9:29 am  
there a time yet?**

**Renee; 9:34 am  
tuesday, 11 pm. what do you want to eat? kyle doesn’t care he says. **

**Andrew; 9:37 am  
neil says steak and shake. **

**Renee; 9:39 am  
okay! I’ll put fs location in email. see you two then!**

**Renee; 9:39 am  
I’m really happy for you three :)**

* * *

They’ve got less than twelve hours until they pick up Kyle and Neil is buzzing in anticipation. In nerves. In excitement. Andrew finally tires of it sometime after lunch and says they might as well get something done with all this energy. 

The store isn’t very busy, it being a Tuesday afternoon, but Andrew still parks in the back of the lot. Neil snags a cart on the walk to the doors, an empty notion because it becomes quickly apparent upon entering the store that he isn’t exactly sure of what a twelve year-old should be eating, and to make matters worse, he isn’t sure Andrew is either. They have a hard enough time eating well enough themselves, let alone planning for a kid’s nutrition. They aren’t complete idiots, just out of practice. 

The only inclination they have is a list of Kyle’s known allergies—none. It’s an incredible help. 

They worldless decide to cover all their bases because if all else fails they can donate anything Kyle doesn’t like and the two of them won’t eat. 

Fruits and vegetables are just inside the entrance of the store, so they start there. Neil picks up kiwis first and Andrew puts them back immediately because they are “disgusting and are not going in the house.” Neil frowns at this new information—he’d never tried to bring kiwis in the house before—and Andrew dismisses it by taking Neil’s hand and pulling them forward. 

Andrew doesn’t say anything about oranges, apples, or bananas—though he does say that three fruits is probably a good enough start. Neil also grabs a bag of spinach because there’s some at the house, but maybe they’ll actually use it at a normal rate with Kyle as an incentive to eat healthier. (He’s certain Daniel will be pleased.)

Andrew personally picks out a pint of ice cream specifically for Kyle, saying, “You have shit taste in sweets, Josten,” when he tries to do it himself. 

There’s a few more things that they throw in the cart—breakfast foods, baking materials, actual food to cook decent dinners, etc—before leaving. All in all, Neil is certain they got a decent haul and that, at the very least, there is a few things that Kyle will like.

At home, it takes awhile to put the groceries away, a half hour or so, because they also need to find the space for things they don’t normally buy—well, ‘they’ means that Andrew digs into the pint of ice cream bought for himself and allows neil the busy work. It’s another thing that helps to cool Neil’s overall jumpiness. His hands are slow to fidget when they’re busy. 

When he puts the last item away he expects he’s going to go for a second run today just to quell his nerves, but is stopped short by Andrew’s, “Come here.”

He’s sitting on the counter, legs dangling over the edge and ice cream tub abandoned at his side. He wears a look that asks for trouble and has Neil crossing the kitchen in two steps. 

He slides easily into the space between Andrew’s legs just as Andrew’s legs slide easily around him to pull him closer. Andrew’s mouth is cold against his from the ice cream, but he doesn’t mind. His only thought is at his own hands inching up beneath Andrew’s shirt and his own hips stuttering.

* * *

The glow of Steak and Shake’s lights turns their dashboard red, even reflects off of Andrew’s hair. Renee texted only a few minutes ago that they’re about ten minutes out, and will they get a table since they’re there, but Andrew and Neil are still sitting in the car. The radio’s timed out and they sit in silence, hands joined over the console. 

Neil’s voice dares to break the spell, “He might hate us.” He uses a tone he trusts to convey his anxieties in a way that doesn’t make him sound like whining. 

Andrew turns his head, face blank, to Neil before saying, “I hate you.”

It’s the reassurance he needs to finally unbuckle his seatbelt and exit the car, Andrew only a moment behind him.

The weather is back to the normal for November and the two of them have donned thicker jackets for the night, as well as gloves. They share a little warmth in the clasping of their hands through the parking lot and into the restaurant. 

It’s nearly empty inside at this time of night, so someone seats them as soon as they enter with a bright, “Just two?”

“Four,” Neil provides before following him to a booth by the window. 

Neil goes in first so that Andrew can have the outside. He slides in after Neil and they fumble to take their jackets off. They both wear long sleeves under their jackets because they’d decided they didn’t know what might trigger Kyle, and it was better to play it safe. When they’ve effectively shoved their jackets off and to the wall of the booth, Andrew puts his hand at Neil’s thigh. It stays there through their server, Brad, taking their drink orders—a water for Neil and a chocolate milkshake for Andrew—and promising to come back when the rest of their party joins them, all the way up until they see Renee come through the doors with a child in tow. 

It doesn’t matter how many times he sees it, he’ll never be used to seeing Renee without her signature white hair and pastel streaks. It feels like that’s how she’s always supposed to look—that, and wearing obnoxious orange. She has neither now though. Her hair is dark, almost black—Neil still isn’t sure if it’s her natural color—and she’s wearing jeans and a blue winter coat, a peacoat he thinks it’s called. 

Noticing Renee is a distraction from looking to the kid accompanying her, but a short one. 

Kyle comes up to Renee’s shoulder—taller than either him or Andrew. He’s got a green coat on and a hat to match. Neil can see sandy brown hair sticking out from the edges of his hat. He can’t see what color his eyes are yet, but he can see that they look tired. It’s awfully late for a twelve year-old. 

Renee’s smile is bright and cheery as they approach the table, and the two of them get out to greet them. Andrew lets Renee wrap her arms around him, even puts one of his own around her. Next is Neil, and he wraps both arms around her. 

“Hey, so,” she steps aside so as to put more emphasis on Kyle, “this is Kyle. Kyle, this is Andre and Neil.” She gestures to them respectively. 

When Andrew and Neil make no move, Kyle asks, voice small and suspicious, “You aren’t gonna hug me?”

“Do you want us to?” Neil asks. It’s beyond second nature to ask permission before touching someone and hadn’t even been a thought to make Kyle uncomfortable. 

“No,” he says, almost satisfied Neil thinks. 

Andrew pipes up then, “Stop standing around,” and gives Neil a nudge toward the booth. Renee laughs something short and gets in the booth before Kyle. 

There’s no chance to start a conversation by the time they sit and their two new additions get their coats off because their water is there in an instant taking Renee and Kyle’s drink order, first Renee and then Kyle. Neil smiles a little when, after Renee asks for a coke, she asks what kind of milkshake Kyle wants before the waiter gets the chance to say anything to him. It runs along the principle of Kyle not have to ask and be a burden. 

They put in their orders then too, so they won’t be interrupted again until their food comes. Neil pays close attention to what Kyl orders, a small part of him going over their earlier shopping trip and hoping for some clue that they got some of the right groceries. There isn’t much to go off though, because he orders a grilled cheese with fries. Good news: they have both bread and cheese. Bad news: this is a waste of time to consider.

Their waiter leaves with an assurance of only a few minutes on their food and shakes. 

“I figured,” Renee starts in, her arms folded in front of her, “I’d get the business out of the way, because there are a few things I’m required to say in-person so that we can all sign a statement.” At Andrew’s nod Renee pulls out a paper from her purse and begins reading down a list, “The trial date is May 28—that’s a little more than six months from now. You are required as his temporary guardians to transport him to all necessary events related to court—including his weekly appointment with Ms. Nancy. Also, no out-of-state trips without consulting me—I need to get it approved. Last but not least though,” Renee looks up from her paper and slides it around in their direction, “you just need to sign stating you’ve heard these court requirements and agree to them.”

She pulls out apen and hands it to Andrew. One after the other, Andrew and Neil sign the last portion of paperwork. When Renee takes it back, freshly signed, Neil can see relief sag in Kyle’s shoulders. He isn’t sure if it’s about the business portion of the evening being over, the fact that until now Andrew and Neil might back out, or a combination of the two. 

It doesn’t matter, only that Neil jumps in by saying, “We cleared out a bedroom for you. It’s pretty empty right now, but we figure we can go shopping tomorrow and help you make it your own.”

“Thanks.”

Renee tries to push momentum by adding, “That’s very cool. Do you know what kinds of things you want to decorate your room with?”

“You’d better think of something,” Andrew says, “or Neil will decorate it in hideous orange. Make something up if you have to—otherwise I might just pack up and move.”

Renee smiles and Neil lets out a defensive, “Hey!” while Kyle’s face goes blank in thought. 

The three of them wait patiently for Kyle to respond because he’s clearly taking Andrew seriously about picking something. Finally he says, “I like space.”

Neil groans dramatically, “Oh no. There’s two of you to lecture me now.”

“It’s not my fault you don’t know what Orion’s Belt is. Toddlers know what that is.”

Neil’s trying hard not to look like he’s watching too carefully, but he’s pretty sure it’s a smile lighting up his eyes—deep blue ones—when their food arrives.

* * *

Renee’s body nearly covers Kyle’s in her goodbye hug—only given after Renee asked if she could. The kid isn’t small by any means, but she dwarfs him in her embrace. It makes him wonder a little at what she looked like hugging Andrew and Neil just before. She whispers something to him before backing away, but it’s too quiet for Neil to hear. 

“Call me if you need anything—Kyle you have the paper with my cell right?”

“Yeah.” 

His eyes are drooping even with his effort to keep them open, and Renee notices it’s time she say her goodbye. “Good, good. Well, it’s getting late, so I won’t keep you. Just text me when you get home, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Neil yawns, feeling equally tired as Kyle looks, “We’ll text ya’.”

She waves one final goodbye as she walks in the direction of her car and Andrew herds their lot to theirs. 

Neil isn’t awake for much of the drive home, just enough to set up the GPS and tell Kyle he can sleep, Andrew won’t listen to the radio very loudly. He’s asleep before they even reach the highway. 

The next time he opens his eyes is when Andrew is pulling off at their exit, the slowing having woken him. 

“You good?” Neil asks, swallowing a yawn. 

“I wouldn’t have driven if I wasn’t, Neil.”

Neil notices the signs of fatigue in his body though, the tension in his shoulders and the blinking that comes more rapidly than normal, and says, “It’s been awhile since you’ve been up this late driving.”

There’s a red light that Andrew uses as an opportunity to turn and face Neil, “Are you calling me old?”

“Maybe. Maybe not though, if I were persuaded.” He leads his voice up and the end and smiles mischievously. Andrew’s eyes travel from Neil’s own, to hips lips, and back again before leaning in for a kiss that lasts until the light turns green. 

Andrew mumbles as he accelerates, “Persuasive ‘nough?”

“I don’t know,” he lets his head fall sideways against the seat to save his view of Andrew, “I think I might need a little more effort.”

“I am going to shove you out of this car. I hate you.”

Neil looks on dopily because Andrew’s voice isn’t flat and unemotional, but it’s still uniquely the same Andrew from PSU. It’s the same Andrew that said he wanted to take Kyle in. It’s the same Andrew that’s sitting here saying he hates Neil while simultaneously driving him and a kid to their home. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, “I know.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They start to understand each other.

He comes to slowly, his mind not eager to be awake so early. He’d been tired enough that, he notices, Andrew had gotten up without waking him. The bed is empty on Neil’s left and the bedding is cool, so it had been a while ago. 

He stretches a minute, feeling and hearing cracks and pops—god, he’s getting old. Again, he’s reminded that it’s getting harder and harder to fight, but is simultaneously reassured because he doesn’t have to. 

He finally rolls out of bed when he hears the sounds of cooking downstairs. Downstairs, he can see that Kyle is watching the history channel on the couch, to which Neil says, “Mornin’,” with a sleepy fist in his eye, and that Andrew is in the kitchen flipping pancakes—chocolate chip, of course. 

Neil walks into the kitchen behind Andrew and leans to his shoulder to press a kiss there, mumbling a good morning against the fabric of his t-shirt. 

Andrew replies with a rough, “Fuckin’ tired.”

Neil laughs and doesn’t say that Andrew is old because he’d been thoroughly convinced otherwise last night, but he thinks it. They used to stay up half the night smoking, drinking, and fooling around, and all of this after a night of either playing or dancing. They were insane, it’s a wonder their bodies are protesting against them now. 

He notices that Andrew is wearing him arm bands when he flips a pancake and is glad he fell asleep in his sweater from last night. He’d forgotten when he got up, and he’s still unsure of where Kyle’s lines are. It’s not as if Kyle can’t see Neil’s face, but he doesn’t have to see the rest of the brutality he’d survived. 

Neil asks then, because he remembers what he saw on the tv before coming into the kitchen, “What twelve year-old watches the history channel first thing in the morning?” 

“It’s not first thing, he’s been up since five,” and then, a little more defensively, “I used to watch it when I was his age.”

“Yeah, but you have like, a hard-on for obscure information.”

Andrew huffs something that’s almost a laugh and tells Neil to get out of his kitchen. Neil does so only after one last kiss to Andrew’s cheek, which he leans into. 

Neil wanders out to Kyle and sits on the couch, careful to leave a space between them because, again, he doesn’t want to take something from Kyle. For now, he was content to wait for Kyle to offer something. 

He watches Kyle for a minute, still in boxers and an old t-shirt that he’d used as pajamas before asking, “What are you watching?” He knows it’s the history channel, and it has something to do with a bone from what he sees on the screen, but he doesn’t know what program.

In lieu of an answer though, Kyle asks, “Are you two always that gay?” 

It’s born of such childhood innocence the way he says it—Neil knows the nasty tone that even twelve year-olds take when they mean it poorly and in a homophobic manner. It’s because of this that Neil has to laugh, and also because apparently part of Kyle’s quietness last night had been due to his tiredness and not just his natural disposition. Kyle makes a funny face when he tosses his head back, but waits for Neil to answer. 

Neil manages to compose himself finally to reply, “I like to be affectionate with Andrew when we’re both okay with being affectionate. And yes, he’s a man, so I guess we’re always ‘that gay.’”

Neil is both surprised and weirded out by Kyle’s decisive nod and response of, “Good.” Neil doesn’t think on it too long though because Kyle offers the answer to his earlier question, “It’s about this snake, Titanoboa.”

Neil smiles and then informs Kyle before he forgets, “We’re gonna go shopping later so you can get stuff for your room.” Neil hardly finishes his statement though before Kyle is shushing him and telling him to pay attention. 

Andrew waits until commercial—on purpose, Neil thinks—to call out that pancakes are done, and for Neil to grab tv trays so they can eat in the living room. 

Andrew makes comments with his mouth half full of pancakes because he’s seen a few similar documentaries and has comments that he thinks Kyle will find interesting or useful. Kyle doesn’t say much in response, occasionally a question to a vague statement, but mostly just consumes the information. 

It’s all sloppily domestic. There is, of course, still the matter of what dragged Kyle out of bed so early, but it seems to have left him for now, and he’s enjoying breakfast with Andrew and Neil, and that’s all he needs right now.

* * *

Andrew decides on going to Target first and Neil guesses why when they enter and Andrew doesn’t bother shopping, but instead makes a beeline for the Starbucks just inside the door to order some kind of chocolate coffee. 

“Get me that lemonade tea thing,” Neil says before starting toward one of the tables to wait. As he’s walking he can hear Andrew asking what Kyle wants—of course Andrew had paid attention to the way Renee spoke at dinner last night. (Kyle asks for a hot chocolate.)

Kyle waits with Andrew while he orders, then follows him to where Neil sits so they can all wait. They sit with their legs out from under the table and pointed to the counter, ready to get up at the call of the order’s name. 

Andrew asks suddenly, “Do you have a color in mind for you room?”

They hadn’t talked about painting the room, but it’s not out of the question or necessary to discuss first. It’s Kyle’s room for the next six months. Andrew and Neil haven’t talked about what happens after the trial, but it seems like they’re drifting toward a conclusion in silence, and a painted room is just a step along the way to it. 

“I like yellow,” is Kyle’s thought-out response and Andrew tells him they can go to Home Depot after Target. 

Their drinks are up a moment later and the trio collects their drinks as well as a cart on their way past the corral. Andrew pushes it and Neil and Kyle walk in front of it, the two of them sipping their drinks. 

Clothes are the first thing they encounter, so they stop there. Kyle only brought a suitcase and a backpack with him, and they are certain there’s not much winter clothing in there. Neil carefully puts it again, not a want, but a need: “Well you need a sweater or two and at least a few long shirts. Probably socks? Definitely boots. It gets cold in the winter, really.”

And even though Kyle is hesitant and stares carefully at price tags in order to pick the cheapest options, he still gets some clothes without looking too uncomfortable. (There’s a sweater that’s the cheapest option, but there’s a few few colors so Kyle chooses the blue one. Andrew finds a yellow one for him if he wants it - he does. He grabs the cheapest package of socks from the wall, and also the boots - those weren’t exactly in an abundance of colors, but it’s okay.) The trip is enough, and Neil doesn’t think there’s too much tension in those shoulders of his when they move on to bed sets. 

Most of the bed sets are the same price, so Kyle has a lot more choice here that’s within his comfort zone. Neil is pleased when, after last night’s comment, Kyle picks up the space bedding. It doesn’t come with sheets though, so Kyle just grabs a cheap black set and tosses it in the cart. 

That’s the extent of what they need from Target, but there’s one more stop to make in the strip mall before they go to Home Depot, so they put all the bags in the car and walk back up to the sidewalk. Neil can see Kyle’s face get wary as they approach the T-Mobile store, but leaves it to Andrew because he’s never been very convincing when it comes to phones. Andrew sees the look on his face too, because it’s just a second before Andrew is opening his mouth. 

“You don’t need some expensive phone, but fact is you need one. All it has to do is make calls and send texts; beyond that, I don’t care if it’s a dinosaur and weighs five pounds.”

Neil knows Kyle understands the explanation, but he can tell in the way that he only nods rather than speaks that he’s still unhappy about the cost of a phone on top of everything else. Still, when they enter the store, Kyle doesn’t try to get out of it. He looks around the store for something that will make him somewhat happy while Andrew and Neil talk to an employee about adding another line to their plan. 

Kyle takes nearly as long choosing as Andrew and Neil do trying to pick a plan and change their billing, but he beats them out by a few minutes and puts a box on the counter. The phone is a few years old and there’s a ‘used’ sticker on it which makes it cheaper. 

“Got a screen protector for that?” Andrew asks the employee, Katie. She takes a minute to find the right size and adds it onto their bill. Neil gives Andrew a look because Neil is well aware Andrew asks for the protector due to him cracking his screen two years back. Andrew sees it and quips, “The kid’s twelve. If you shattered your screen and you’re nearly forty, what makes you think I’m not gonna do it for him? Quit your whining.” His mouth is twisted into a smile at the corners, and it pleases Neil too much to mess with him any more. 

Katie laughs at their exchange and takes the phone out of the box to start setting it up. She shows a few of the functions to Kyle and how to screw around with the settings. Most importantly, they add in three numbers: Andrew, Neil, and Renee’s. 

Home Depot goes much smoother, Kyle finding a color that pleases him after only a few minutes of looking at color samples. He decides on a creamy yellow, bright but not hard on the eyes. They pick up painting supplies too; tape, tarps, rollers, etc. 

It’s nearing one in the afternoon after Home Depot, so Andrew doesn’t bother with waiting to make lunch and instead pulls up to McDonald’s. It’s shit, but it’s quick and Kyle can’t put up much of a debate over anything there. Neil even orders a salad—slowly working himself toward making Daniel pleased. 

Andrew carries their tray to a window seat where they can see the parking lot, and also their car. At first, Neil is content as the other two are to sit in silence and eat their lunch, but it soon becomes too much. He’s itching either to make Kyle comfortable, or, at the very least, distract him. 

“Did Renee tell you how we met? Andrew and I?” Kyle shakes his head as he chews, so Neil takes it as a sign to carry on. “The first time I met him he hit me with an exy racquet. Right to the gut.” He can’t keep the laugh out of his voice because really, what a stupid thing to do on both of their ends.

Andrew seems to think so as well because he says, “What the hell else was I supposed to do with limited time and resources.”

“Literally anything else, Andrew. Literally. Anything. Else.” Andrew just shrugs. They’ve long since traveled past the incident. But Neil, he’s just willing enough to let the story go on with more embellishments from here on out. 

“Listen though, Kyle, because Andrew’s gonna lie to you if I don’t set you straight: he was head over exy racquet—or whatever the equivelent is.” Andrew scoffs loudly, but Neil carries on, “It’s true. He took me out partying, bought me clothes, kept me safe. He even told the only friend who knew he was gay to tell me he was—that would be Renee.”

Andrew’s had enough to object again, “That’s an oversimplified and over dramatized version of events.”

“So you admit that there’s truth in it? That you were, in fact, head over exy racquet for me from day one.”

“I hate you.”

Neil grins, “I’ll continue. Anyway, Renee just told me that Andrew was gay and single, and I was hellbent on not noticing anyone in a romantic way.” Again, oversimplification, but it works. “What really got me is when we went out that Friday with everyone, an ex of Andrew’s made comment insinuating that he and I were together. And I really have to tell you, Kyle, I’m utterly clueless with romance, so I just asked Andrew why the guy would say what he said. And he just said it, point blank. He was _in looooove_ with me.”

He thinks Andrew might choke on his french fry before he gets the chance to speak, but he manages not to, “I’m pretty sure I did not profess love for you. I’m pretty sure that the way it actually went was I said you were attractive but I hated you, and you went off the deep end. Who was in love with whom now?”

“You just think you’re fancy for using ‘whom,’ but Kyle here is a smart man. He knows you were totally in love with me and totally told me.”

Andrew and Neil look to Kyle with a challenge in their eyes, waiting for him to finish his latest bite of french fry and decide who’s the bigger bull-shitter. He manages to eat it in possibly a record slow time before saying, “Sorry, but, and I mean it’s only been a day, but you seem overly dramatic a lot.”

Andrew holds his hand up to Kyle for possibly the only high-five he’s ever seen Andrew give and finds it in himself easily to not be a sore loser.

* * *

Neil manages to successfully screw up painting before they even really start. He’s just taking a screwdriver to the paint lid in order to open it, but he still does it wrong and manages to send flecks of yellow paint across his face and hair. 

“Dumbass,” Andrew comments as he takes the screwdriver from Neil and finishes the job himself. 

“Language,” Neil replies, equally childish.

Andrew takes his comment and twists it, saying, “Dumbass,” again, only this time in Russian. 

Neil stage-whispers to Kyle, sitting on the step ladder next to them, “He still called me a dumbass.” Kyle smiles. 

Andrew doesn’t retaliate though, just finishes the job that was supposed to be Neil’s. He stirs the paint with the stirrer-stick and pours it into the tray. Every movement is accompanied by the rustle of the tarp beneath their feet. 

“You get first roll, Kid,” Andrew declares, grabbing a roller and holding it up to Kyle. He carefully stands from the step ladder and takes the roller from Andrew’s hands. He’s careful about rolling paint onto the roller too, not even sticking it all the way against the plastic tray, but rather brushing it against the thick paint. They can correct that in a minute though, Kyle can start it himself. 

The walls are white, so they didn’t have to bother with primer, and the yellow stands in stark contrast when Kyle rolls it onto the wall. It’s an uneven roll that leaves heavy paint on one part of the line, and too little on another part. 

“Let me teach you the secret to painting,” Neil says, “It’s all about the circle.”

“Dear god,” Andrew says with a hand to his face, “do not listen to him. Everything he says is a lie.”

Neil only laughs and picks up a roller to start painting, leaving Andrew to teaching him how to roll an even coat on the wall.

* * *

For a few weeks, they get into a pretty good rhythm. 

Kyle wakes up abnormally early most mornings—sometimes with a shout and sometimes with silence. Andrew and Neil often join him, either because they were already awake with their own dreams, or because Kyle wakes them. They pass the time until Andrew makes breakfast (Kyle helps sometimes, and Neil is a hindrance) by watching some documentary because that’s what Kyle seems to like best. 

Kyle started his online classes not long off from moving in with Andrew and Neil, and five days out of the week after breakfast, he goes to the computer room and starts his work. Occasionally he comes out to ask Andrew for help or, he learned quickly, Neil when it comes to anything math. Sometimes one or the other of them isn’t there, so he writes sticky notes about what to ask later. He has an online monitor for these sort of things, but he’s found it confusing to read an email rather than get it explained in real time. 

Lunch is usually a free for all of sandwiches, chips, and, occasionally, soup. Sometimes they eat it together, and sometimes they grab it when they have a free minute. Dinner though, is a production very much like breakfast, with Andrew making, Kyle helping, and Neil distracting. 

Andrew and Neil find the routine of a kid very useful to not eating like shit. Don’t get him wrong, Andrew still manages to go through a pint of ice cream in two days flat, but he’s also eating salad and a balanced plate and all that. Neil even does stretches like, once a week now under Andrew’s careful eye, he, too, growing tired of telling Daniel that they are doing everything they can possibly do to not make it to 40. 

The problem with this routine though, is that Kyle is going through this big trauma on his own. He has his weekly sessions with Ms. Nancy, but at home he feels alone. It’s not like he’s on an exy team that was born of misfits; to Kyle, Andrew and Neil are planets away from understanding Kyle. 

Neil is beginning to see the mistake in hiding that part of their life from him. They’d continued wearing their arm bands, equal parts unwilling to share that intimacy and not wanting to make him afraid. This loneliness though, it isn’t a way for Kyle to live. 

This is what he tells Andrew before bed one night, their legs tangled together and their hands steadying each other. 

“What’s yours is yours to tell.”

Neil takes a minute to decipher this, too tired to get it quickly. Andrew’s eyes are heavy with sleep, too, but a slight edge of warning. He gets it then: Don’t tell Andrew’s story. 

“Okay,” Neil promises with a poor-formed kiss to Andrew’s nearest wrist, and then, “How do I even start that kind of thing? ‘Oh hey, by the way, Everything you know about me’s a lie, right down to my name.’’”

“You aren’t a lie, Neil.”

“Well I certainly haven’t been telling the truth—and you know damn well omission is the same.” He doesn’t want to break the trust they’ve already formed.

Andrew pulls Neil’s hand from his face and holds it between them, “So start telling the truth. Let him be mad you lied.”

“Sounds so easy,” Neil says sarcastically, only partially distracted by the way Andrew’s pointer finger is tracing the lines of his palm.

“Honesty rarely is.”

Still, he’s not sure how to start the conversation. While they’re running? After helping him with math? Over breakfast? He’s nearly worked himself to sleep considering how the hell he’s supposed to start this kind of conversation when it comes to him. 

He’s always been shit at honesty, but he was best at it when he was at PSU. Besides, when he thinks about the way Wymack took one look at him and gave him a fresh slate, he gets the feeling that Kyle needs that. Andrew and Neil have done their best to give Kyle a clean start, but it’s hard when there’s constant reminders in the air, like therapist appointments, skype sessions with Renee and a lawyer, and just about every other thing to remind him that he isn’t just a kid. 

He knows Andrew isn’t asleep yet because his finger still traces at Neil’s hand, so he voices it aloud, “We have to go to PSU.”

Andrew rolls his eyes, “Call Renee in the morning so she can get it approved,” and then, “Are you done now? I’m not sure how much longer I can wait for you to catch on—unless it’s no.”

Neil’s mind reroutes itself in an instant, all thought of Kyle or Renee gone and all thoughts of Andrew touching him flooding in.

It’s a rare occasion these days that the two of them use ‘yes or no’, mostly Andrew uses it to point out that Neil is ignoring him at the moment, but Neil says anyway, because he knows just as well that it isn’t a joke, “It’s yes.”

Andrew mutters, “Good,” before leaning in to Neil.

* * *

Neil calls Renee the next morning while cooling down from his morning run. She’s excited and proud she says, and to give her a few days for her to get approval. She says it should be okay, but just give her a few days. 

It only takes two.

**Renee; 11:56 am  
just need trip info (hotel address, dates, etc)  & ur good!**

He asks Kyle over dinner that night, “How do you feel about going on a little vacation this weekend?” Kyle’s eyes go wide at first and Neil can’t discern whether it’s surprise or fear, so he quickly continues. “We were gonna go visit PSU. It’s been awhile since Andrew’s seen Bee, and I figured I could introduce you to our old coach, if you’re interested.”

His eyes slowly return to normal and he replies with a careful, “That’d be cool. It’s gotta be warmer than here”

Neil laughs and lets go of the tension he’d been carrying over the possibility that Kyle wouldn’t have wanted to go.

* * *

It’s Neil’s experience now that tells him car rides make Kyle tired—and they do drive, because Andrew would rather be stuck in a car for 10 hours than he would fly. Kyle manages to sleep though most of the drive, leaving Andrew and Neil to their own devices. It feels familiar and wholesome. Different, but good. They’ve always taken road trips. Sure, now there’s a kid in the back seat, and at lunch Andrew switches with Neil because his knee is overly-stiff, but it’s the same feeling. It’s the old pairing with the new to make something better. 

They get to their hotel in the evening, nearly nine, so they don’t do much beyond switch their bags from the car to the room. Kyle moves sluggishly, having been freshly woken, and grabs as much as he can so as to take it all in one go. He’d laugh if he and Andrew weren’t doing the same thing.

In the elevator, Kyle leaning against the panelling with his eyes shut and Andrew and Neil using each other as a prop, Andrew says, “Text Renee and Wymack when we get up, let ‘em know we got here.”

Neil doesn’t freeze or tense so much as go still. Andrew feels it though and asks carefully, “What?”

“I may have,” Neil says as the doors to their floor open and Kyle moves to exit, “forgotten to tell Wymack we were coming.”

Andrew follows Kyle out and sighs, “I don’t know why I keep you around. Utterly useless. Call him, don’t text. You know he’s still in his office.”

Once in the door, he drops his haul unceremoniously at the end of one of the beds and turns around and out to the hallway with his phone in hand. 

Wymack picks up on the fourth ring with a disgruntled, “The hell do you want, Josten.”

“Hey coach, nice to talk to you too.”

“I’m knee deep in recruit files. It’s not nice to do anything.”

“Need a hand?” Neil asks in a pinched voice that he knows suggests his meaning.

Wymack sighs—people are sighing at him a lot tonight, he realizes—before replying, “Yeah. Come by around lunch tomorrow—but we’re eating through work.”

“Sure thing, but I sorta got someone to introduce you to.”

“Neil, I swear to god. If it is a recruit I will have campus security tow your car. I am up to my knees in recruits.”

“No, no, coach, nothing like that. Andrew and I, we sorta,” Neil fumbles for the way to say it, fails, and decides to spit it out, “well, we have this kid. We’re fostering him until his parent’s trial is over. I thought it’d do him good to meet you.”

There’s silence on the other end, and Neil isn’t quite sure what Wymack’s thinking.

“You okay, coach?” Neil questions.

“Yeah, just isn’t often anymore that you shock me. So a kid?”

“A kid,” he affirms. “His name’s Kyle.”

There’s a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and an exhale before Wymack says, “Well shit. Alright. Bring him by.”

“You’re just good at it, the whole clean-slate thing,” Neil clarifies, “You make it not matter even if it’s still going on.”

“Glad you think so highly of me. Where was this everytime you committed press suicide?”

Neil laughs, “Thanks, coach,” and hangs up before Wymack can milk anymore compliments from him. 

He shoots a quick text to Renee before entering their room. Kyle is already asleep again, and Andrew is under the covers reading a book. He’s wearing his glasses, so he has to look over the edge of them when Neil comes in. He raises his eyebrows in question and Neil swipes his palm, “It’s good.”

Andrew nods in acceptance, bookmarks his page, and sets the book on the table. Neil takes off his jeans and gets on his side of the bed while Andrew does this, fine with sleeping in his t-shirt and boxers for the night. 

He’s on auto pilot for a minute until he realizes that something’s off. 

“You’re closest to the door,” Neil comments, fake-casually. 

Andrew turns to meet Neil’s eyes and simply says, “Observant. Gold Star for you.”

Andrew had decided not only to take the bed closest to the door, but the spot closest to the door. It’s no longer about protecting himself, it’s about Kyle. 

“Do you want me to sleep in the chair?” There’s a desk chair that Neil is more than willing to sleep in considering he can’t remember the last time Andrew chose any other position than against the wall and facing the room. 

“No.”

He lets a stupid smile come across his face and finishes settling under the covers.

* * *

The lot of them nearly sleep so long they miss breakfast. They wake just before ten, and breakfast ends at ten-thirty. They probably would have continued to sleep were it not for the screaming kid running down the hallway, closely followed by a parents quick reprimand. They aren’t annoyed by it though, considering it allows them breakfast. 

They go downstairs in their pajamas still—well, Neil grabs his jeans from last night—to find that breakfast is mostly gone. There’s a handful of muffins and bagels left, milk and no cereal, and a few clementines. It works though, because they’ll be eating lunch in only a few hours. 

As they eat, Neil tells Kyle about the normal running route he took for five years straight, and Andrew rolls his eyes.

* * *

The drive to PSU is mostly Kyle listening as Neil points out landmarks or pieces of old memories—points out physically his old running route, connecting it to his brief story this morning. Andrew’s already off with Bee, her having picked him up at the hotel and left them the car.

It’s a twenty minute drive from the hotel to the university, and every mile closer is one where Neil feels closer to be able to tell Kyle. Every step up the sidewalk to Wymack’s apartment is a step closer to Kyle feeling like he has a clean slate for the first time in months. It’s crazy to be this nervous about telling his story he’s told it a million times by now, but it’s because, really, he’s been keeping it from him.

 

Neil knocks at Wymack’s door only to get a muffled, “It’s open,” from behind it. He opens it and takes in the familiar sight of chaos in management. There’s stacks of papers, clothes, and god knows what else all around the living room and foreseeable apartment, yet it manages to look functionable. God knows how Wymack does it. 

Neil guesses the older man is back in his office, so Neil clears off the couch, moving files to the coffee table, to make room for him and Kyle to wait. It’s not more than a minute that they sit, one they don’t bother to fill with chattiness. It’s sort of a developing trend that Kyle allows Neil to speak whatever he pleases, but that it’s not necessary. Kyle’s content to sit in silence, much like Andrew, and Neil’s learned to find it comforting.

It’s been awhile since Neil’s seen Wymack and he looks older, but his presence is just the same. There’s the same tattoos that scrawl up his arms, the same clothing that looks like it’s been washed too many times on purpose. There’s gray in his hair now and wrinkles in his face. 

Wymack comes into the living room with a stack of papers in his hand, recruit files he’s guessing, and declares promptly, “Business first. You can start with these,” he lets the stack fall into Neil’s barely ready hands and adds as an afterthought, “Hi, Kyle. What a sorry lot you’ve got.” He refers to Andrew and Neil—mostly Neil. 

Kyle’s, “Hi,” is quiet and unfamiliar, suspicious. 

Wymack doesn’t bother reassuring him, just moves on with, “Pizza good?” And, when there’s no objection, “I’m getting pineapple if you don’t tell me what you want on it.”

Kyle is surprisingly quick to say, “Ham and mushrooms, please.”

“One, that’s fucking gross. Two, Neil’s is worse, so it’s a go.” Neil happens to like anchovies, and apparently no one else does. He has not lived it down, apparently. 

Wymack retreats back into his office to order the pizza while Neil makes himself busy flipping through files. He makes comments to Kyle as he goes. 

“She’s got skill but no passion. You can see it in her eyes. There’s no fight. She’ll never survive as a Fox.”

“Jesus, does he ever leave the weight room?”

“He’s gotta get faster if he wants to really make it pro.”

“13 year player? Who plays exy when they’re five?”

Wymack comes back sometime after the call with his own stack, pushing more paperwork off of a chair and making room for himself. Wymack makes his own pile of yes, nos, and maybes, while Neil delegates that to Kyle. Neither of them are halfway through their piles though, when the Wymack’s phone rings, letting him know that the delivery guys at the desk. He slips away for a minute to pay, and Neil continues on through the piles. 

Wymack comes back a minute later with the pizza in tow and sets it unceremoniously on top of the mountain of files that is the coffee table and then, when he sees Neil continue through the recruits, “Put that shit away.”

“You said to work through lunch.”

“Since when do you listen to me?”

Neil smiles and sets the stack aside. Wymack doesn’t grab plates or anything, so Neil just grabs a piece to start eating. Kyle grabs a slice after Wymack does, carefully watching Wymack take the first bite. 

When he notices Kyle’s stare he shrugs, “Not that bad—still disgusting, but not that bad.” Wymack eats like a wolf, downing half the pizza in two bites, and even speaks with his mouth still full, “So you gonna go court one day, Kyle?” Ever the coach, never taking his eye off the ball.

Kyle, unlike Wymack, swallows before replying, “I don’t really like stick ball.”

Now, Neil would never let it be said that he mimicked Kevin Day in any way, but he will admit that it was particularly Kevin-esque the way he chokes on his bite at the inflection in Kyle’s voice. It’s the most emotion he’s heard in Kyle’s voice, and it was saying the words ‘stick ball.’ 

Wymack, meanwhile, is laughing good and full, his head tipped back with it. Neil is just in awe of himself. He’s been talking about exy for the better part of two months. Two months and Kyle had not shared once that he does not like exy. They watch games all the time together, and he always sits there, silent. 

This is practically betrayal, and he voices it as such. Kyle is dismissive in his posture and takes another bite of pizza. 

Wymack stutters out between laughs, “You mean to tell me,” he’s _wheezing_ , “that you’ve been living with two professional exy players, one which never stops talking about it, and you don’t even like it? Ohmygod. That’s just poetry.”

“Shut up, coach.” 

“Oh Neil, thank you for stopping by. It really is the gift that keeps on giving.”

“Stop laughing, this isn’t funny. It’s sacreligious.”

“Sorry,” Kyle mutters.

“Oh,” Neil affirms, “You should be. How could you let me just keep talking about it? It’s like, 80% of my conversation topics.”

“You like it, so I mean.” He shrugs then, letting it fill in the rest of his sentence. 

“How sweet,” Wymack says mockingly sardonic, grabbing another slice from the box, “Not even Andrew tolerates exy talk. I’m pretty sure that makes you a fox by default, having to suffer through two months of Neil and exy.”

“Rude.”

“True.”

The rest of lunch is a much calmer affair. They finish their pizza, finish their stacks of files so that there’s at least some clear choice in the manner now. Neil watches closely—after the matter of the betrayal—as Kyle realizes it, the way Wymack talks to him. Wymack’s imposing in a way that somehow doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable asking for things. Neil’s never been able to perfect it. It’s evident enough in the way they’d only been there for a half hour and Kyle had said something more open than he had in two months. 

Coming to see Wymack had been the right move without a doubt. It had been just as much for Kyle as it had been for Neil. Kyle needed to see that he could be more than his trauma, and Neil needed to see how to be honest again. 

It’s almost easy to start the conversation on the drive back to the hotel—almost. He still starts off rockily and fumbles for exactly the right words, but he talks. 

“So,” he says, both hands gripping the wheel and eyes planted on the road in front of him, “I guess you not liking exy sort of explains why you’ve not been curious.” Neil looks quickly to the rearview mirror to glance Kyle’s expression and sees it a mask of confusion. He expands, “Most twelve year-olds would google the famous exy player fosters when they meet them. Not you. It’s good though, you probably would have gotten a lot of bull shit answers to your questions.”

He breathes in, out. 

“I wasn’t always Neil.” He’s started. He’s done it, now he just has to keep going. “I was Chris and Stefan and Jason and too many others. But mostly, I was Nathaniel Wesninski. I sort of trademarked the shit family thing. You’re too young to know about it probably, but my father was a bad man. Sort of like yours. When he was alive, people called him the Butcher of Baltimore.”

He’s on a role now, he can’t stop. It’s pouring out of him. 

“He was a horrible man. He hurt people because he was good at it, because he got paid to do it, and because he liked it. He beat me within an inch of my life and then tried to sell me. My mother took me before he could sell me. Twenty-two cities. Twenty-two names. I don’t like to think about that time; it’s probably the worst of it all. Between my mother’s cruel protection and my father’s men coming after us, I never had the chance to be a kid. 

“Once, my father caught up to us. He hurt my mom real badly. She fought to her last breath to get me away from him, and she succeeded. She died on a beach and out of my father’s clutches. I burned her body and buried her in the sand when I was seventeen. I had to keep running, had to stay alive, so I said goodbye and never looked back. I ran to PSU, practically into the arms of the people my father tried to sell me to. 

“My freshman year of college I nearly died. My father nearly killed me again. I watched him die in the basement of his empire.”

He looks back again to Kyle, and Neil can’t read what’s on his face. Maybe he could if he weren’t so mixed up himself, so he doesn’t let himself worry about it just yet. 

“Kyle, I’m not telling you this because I think it’s fun to relive old memories or because I think you’re better off hearing about murder and a fucked up life. I’m telling you because most kids are afraid of the monsters under their bed, and people like us, we’re scared of the ones in the other room.” He licks his lips. He hopes this isn’t coming out wrong. “It’s not my place to tell Andrew’s story, but I can sure as hell tell you that you aren’t alone under our roof. We’ve spent our whole lives being problems, for other people and for ourselves. We didn’t want to scare you with this shit, but the point’s moot. We’re the kind of people that don’t stop being scared, not really. So do me a favor, okay, and stop stepping on eggshells. All three of us have broken pieces, you don’t need to act like you don’t.”

It’s a tense moment that Neil’s gaze flicks between the road and the backseat waiting for Kyle to say something, and then, a quiet and perhaps relieved, “Okay.”

When they get back to the hotel, Neil quietly takes off his arm bands, still managing the watchful eye of Andrew and Kyle though. Neil watches as Kyle looks up and down Neil’s arms, his eyes wide. It isn’t quite fear, but it isn’t quite familiarity—he’s glad that it’s not. 

He asks then, breaking Kyle’s stare, “Do you want to go swimming before dinner?” There’s a hotel pool and Neil knows it’s open until ten. 

Kyle nods his head and Neil turns to wait for Andrew to respond. 

His eyes are narrowed and he says in a knowing voice, “It’ll be a ball.” Andrew is well aware that Neil is trying for an honesty firework, loud and unignorable. He’s going to show Kyle more of his scars. He’s going to show Kyle how to survive.

* * *

Things are much smoother after the trip to PSU. Kyle keeps his promise to stop walking on eggshells, and even asks Neil questions about his parents. Neil gives it up gladly, willing to do anything to help Kyle understand that his trauma doesn’t define him. That Neil is living a good goddamn life. That he’s happy. That it doesn’t go away, but it gets better. 

It’s not quite good though, until Neil comes come from PT one Wednesday and finds Andrew sitting on the couch with Kyle, his armbands no longer on his arms. 

Neil doesn’t make comment on it, but it’s a perceptible change in the air. It’s like this family is a tangible hope for Kyle, and Neil nearly trips over it in his attempts to join them on the couch.

Andrew says later, unnecessarily, that he talked to Kyle today. Neil smiles something hopeful and dumb before kissing Andrew.

* * *

It’s from that point on that they start to really learn about who Kyle is. They see the kid that is stubborn and opinionated. They see him turn away a chili dog because it has mustard on it. They see him joke around with Renee in one of their video chat sessions. They see him find a recipe for him and Andrew to attempt. 

In the midst of this, there are still bad moments. Mornings Kyle still wakes up in the early hours of morning where Andrew and Neil join him. Sessions with Ms. Nancy that he leaves upset and spends the rest of the day in bed. 

Andrew and Neil have been putting their pieces together for 40 years and Kyle is just beginning, but maybe they can find some of the missing ones together.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sort of a snapshot telling of before, during, and after the trial.

He wakes up to Andrew’s stare, and then to his lips. His aren’t open for more than a few seconds before Andrew is pressing light kisses to the shoulder that Neil has pressed into Andrew’s chest. 

The feeling, every bit of it, Andrew’s lips, the full house, the family, fills him to the brim. He feels like that stupid bucket at the water park that gets filled and filled ith water until it finally spills over, dousing everyone with its contents. 

Neil says the thing then that’s been sitting in his gut for the past five months.

“This isn’t just a temporary situation.” Not a question, but not quite a statement. 

“No,” Andrew agrees, “it isn’t.”

That’s realy that, too. They can’t do anything official until after the trial, but it’s a promise, and they don’t break promises.

* * *

Neil waits for Kyle to get up and around before going for a run because lately they’ve been going together. They don’t talk much while running because Kyle is still building his stamina and spends most of the time breathing too heavily to speak. 

Andrew had been the one to suggest it when Ms. Nancy recommended that Kyle take up a hobby to help with some of his stronger emotions, to help channel them into something more positive, the ones he can’t talk through. Occasionally Andrew joins, but most of the time it’s too much impact on his knee. If he does join them now, he rides his bike beside them. 

It’s all part of the new rhythm they’ve gotten into. It’s utterly the same as it was a few months ago, but it feels better. It feels less like going through the motions and more like living. 

Neil had started his relationship with Andrew telling himself that he could handle it if all he was was a warm mouth. Now the three of them are pulling their lives together and intertwining them. The bad days are worth it, worth this.

* * *

Neil’s at PT, doing some exercises with the resistance band under Daniel’s watchful eye. He doesn’t say it, but it’s a hell of a lot easier to exercise ever since changing his diet and doing the stretches on a normal basis, not to mention actually attending physical therapy. 

“I’m actually starting to believe that you were a professional athlete,” Daniel comments as Neil finishes a set of pulls, “It’s a wonder what listening to what your doctor says will do for you.”

Neil lets the band go so that it snaps in Daniel’s direction, “Yeah, yeah, you know what you’re talking about on occasion.”

“What little praise for the man that’s keeping you from marching into an early grave.”

“Little praise for the man that constantly reminds me that death is iminent,” Neil chastises. 

“Not anymore,” Daniel corrects. “Now, maybe you’ll see 50.”

He narrowly avoids the second snap of the band toward him, but they both laugh.

* * *

Neil is sitting in the waiting room of Ms. Nancy’s office (aka Dr. Karp) scrolling through his phone and waiting for the end of Kyle’s session. There’s only a few minutes left, and Neil uses it to reply to Allison’s snapchat, her in a changing room asking for his opinion. She’s wearing white shorts with mesh pockets. Neil approves it because he thinks that’s what she’s looking for. 

Neil slips his phone into his pocket and stands when the two, Kyle and Ms. Nancy, comes out of her room. He meets them in the middle of the room and is about to wish her a good rest of the day when she asks if she can speak to Neil for a minute. 

Ms. Nancy is a frail woman, less than willowy in stature and hair fraying at the edges. She presents herself as someone with very little conviction or level-headedness, and yet, Neil has found her to be everything to the contrary—which is why it concerns Neil when she asks for a minute. 

“Of course,” he says, “Kyle, why don’t you go start the car, get the air started.” He hands the keys over and Kyle takes off with them.

Ms. Nancy motions for Neil to follow her away from the waiting room full over other patients and toward her room. Neil closes the door behind them because he assumes he should.

“Is Kyle okay?” he asks, allowing himself to voice the concern he feels. 

Her lips find themselves to a straight line, neither a yes nor a no.

“Well, as you know, I’ve been working most recently with Kyle about being able to talk to a courtroom full of people about his parents. I’m sure you’ve noticed as well that it’s been really hard on him. I know he says he doesn’t really talk about our sessions with you and Andrew, but it’s hard for him to shake it all off after.”

She moves to sit and spreads her hand in the air to point out the available seating for Neil. 

“We’ve been talking about this for a few weeks now, and I’ll be blunt, it’s not getting any easier. What you see at home is only a fraction of the emotion I see here, I’m sure. This is, unfortunately a process of beginning to understand how to interact with trauma, but not what I wanted to talk about.

“Kyle has expressed a few times that he doesn’t want to testify, and I have to say, at this point in time, so close to trial, I can’t say I recommend that he does. I’ve been talking with his caseworker, Ms. Walker, about it, and I’m still waiting for confirmation that Kyle’s testimony isn’t necessary, but I wanted to keep you informed about the whole thing.”

Neil hadn’t really considered this possibility. Sometimes Neil would ask how a session went and Kyle would respond vaguely. Sometimes he would come out with dried tear tracks on his face and they’d make root beer floats when they got home, but he hadn’t realized what it meant in relation to the trial. 

When Neil had testified at Lola’s trial, it had been different. Of course, no one expected anything from him, but it had still been different. He’d been 19. Kyle’s 12. 

“I knew it was hard on him, I guess it’s just hard to gauge it all,” Neil voices to her. 

She nods in understanding, “It’s always hard with kids.”

“Um,” Neil stands and holds out a hand in her direction, “thanks for letting me know. I’ll make sure to talk with Renee about it.”

She takes his hand and offers a goodbye to him, which Neil returns before making a quick walk to the car. He finds Kyle curled up in the backseat, looking like he’s already half asleep. Neil is careful to avoid bumps along the road as he drives them home. 

He wakes Kyle up with his name just once in their driveway. He wakes with a yawn and untangles himself from his seatbelt. They aren’t even in the door a minute before Kyle announces that he’s going to go take a nap. 

Neil flops onto the couch beside Andrew on the couch after Kyle heads upstairs to his room. His falls over onto Andrew, his head on his shoulder and his arm across his middle. 

“Kyle doesn’t want to testify.” Neil says it like a sigh, deflating into Andrew further. “I don’t know shit about kids. Didn’t even think he didn’t want to do it.”

Andrew is quiet a moment, thinking, before, “Twenty-two-year-old-me didn’t want to take the stand about my own shit, let alone twelve-year-old-me. No one wants to relive the past. Don’t kick yourself for not seeing it, make sure he doesn’t have to testify.”

Andrew says it like it’s so simple. Neil wants it all to be simple.

* * *

In the end, Neil doesn’t have to ensure anything because only a day later Renee calls to inform them that the legal team was able to piece together past statements from kyle as evidence enough of his testimony. Kyle would have been more convincing in person, but they can use him not showing up as a case point too. 

Simple. All so simple.

* * *

His parents’ trial is in just over a week at this point, and Neil still hasn’t asked if Kyle wants to go to it despite not testifying. Timing has never been his strong suit either, so he asks when Kyle is busy doing some worksheet for one of his classes. 

“Hey, Kyle?” 

“Hmm,” he responds, not looking up from his work. He knows it won’t stay that way for long, so he doesn’t bother trying to catch more of his attention.

“Did you still want to go to the trial even though you aren’t testifying?”

Neil was right, Kyle doesn’t stay focused on his work for long. After Neil’s question Kyle is setting his pencil down and looking at Neil with wide, impossibly blue eyes. 

“No.”

His answer is nearly so quiet he doesn’t hear it, but he does and he nods in acceptance. 

“The three of us can have an _Elementary_ marathon or something and forget about it, okay?”

Kyle smiles lightly and returns to his homework, U.S. history Neil thinks.

* * *

There’s only a few days until trial and neil can see it weighing on Kyle, so he takes him for a run, longer than their usual to let it out. It doesn’t quite do the trick though, and when they get back, breathing heavy and drenched in sweat, Andrew asks if Kyle wants to see Nancy early. 

Kyle is still breathing heavy, so he shakes his head no instead of speaking. He’s walking in circles to slowly control his breathing. Neil thinks that’s the end of it, but is shocked when Kyle talks again. 

“I don’t know what I want to happen.” Neither Andrew nor Neil responds, careful to wait for more, which there is. “They’re bad people. They did bad things and they hurt people. They hurt _me._ ” It almost sounds like he’s breathing heavier rather than easier. “But they’re my parents. 

Andrew speaks before Neil has even the thought to throw together.

“Sometimes the thing that hurts the most is the thing that’s supposed to happen. It isn’t fair, but that’s life. Sometimes, people just learn it earlier than they should have to.”

“That’s bullshit.” It’s the first time they’ve heard Kyle swear. 

“Yeah, it is. Welcome to the family; once a fox, always a fox.” 

At this point, Kyle has heard too many stories to not laugh through half-formed tears, mostly, Neil guesses, to let out any emotion that isn’t as conflicted as he feels.

* * *

Kyle wakes up with a shout and Andrew and Neil aren’t long after. Despite the tiredness that runs deep in their bodies, they pull themselves from the bed. Andrew pulls the comforter with him and Neil goes in search of the box set of _Elementary_. 

Andrew is settling in on the couch while Neil is messing with the DVD player when Kyle finally emerges. They don’t exchange good mornings, nor do they talk about the trial. Neil just finishes setting the show up and moves to Andrew’s side and Kyle situates himelf next to Neil. Andrew half-tosses the blanket to get it over all three of them and Neil presses play. 

**Renee; 7:49 am  
abt to start, will call after.**

* * *

Neil body tenses when his phone rings that evening. The case is shut and close. Simple. 

He picks up the phone.

* * *

Neil can’t keep it from his face, he knows he can’t, so he turns to Andrew. He’s always been able to find solid ground in the abyss of those honey colored eyes. He’s always been able to find hope there.

* * *

“You can quite hiding Neil. Your phone volume isn’t that low. I heard her.”

Neil isn’t sure how Kyle can sound so calm when Neil wants to scream, wants to cry, wants to sleep for a very long time. He can’t even offer any words to Kyle at the moment. He’s in the middle of a short circut. 

This isn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to simple. Open and shut. 

“It’s okay. I’m just gonna go to my room. Start packing or something.”

Neil isn’t supposed to let him go to his room all alone. Andrew isn’t supposed to be sitting here just as frozen as Neil. They should be doing literally anything but what they’re doing. Simple. 

They don’t. Kyle goes to his room.

* * *

With the soft click of Kyle’s door closing, Neil’s damn breaks. He’s not sure he’s crying so much as there are tears coming from his eyes and down his cheeks. He turns his face into the crook of Andrew’s neck, who seems to have been pulled from his spell as well because he moves a hand to the back of Neil’s neck. 

He feels frozen there until his eyes start to droop and the tears seem to have stopped. Andrew notices, and lets out a rough, “Go to sleep, Neil.”

* * *

Sleep doesn’t allow Neil to stay for long, a few hours at most. It’s three in the morning by a check of the wall clock. Andrew’s eyes are shut, but Neil knows he isn’t asleep. Neil thinks maybe he’ll play that game too. Maybe he can change the verdict if he thinks about it long enough.

* * *

The next time Neil wakes up Andrew is sliding out from under him, telling him to go back to sleep. He’ll wake him up when breakfast is ready. Neil isn’t sure how he finds it in him to listen.

* * *

Andrew’s hand at his cheek is how he wakes the third and final time, his thumb tracing at the scarring there. 

“Kyle’s waiting for you so we can eat breakfast.”

Neil pulls himself up and Andrew’s hand drops. His head is pounding, but he lets his feet guide him to the table anyway. 

Kyle is still in his pajamas and his hair is a mess. There are bags under his eyes that say he got just as little, if not less, sleep than Neil had. 

Even as he sits though, Neil still can’t find the right words to say. Everything sounds empty. He remembers the relief he’d felt when his father went to jail. His fight wasn’t over, but it was safer. How is Kyle supposed to go back to that?

He doesn’t say anything.

* * *

Andrew is washing dishes, Kyle is upstairs throwing a few last minute things in bags, and Neil is still sitting at the table when there’s a knock at the door. He knows who it is, but now more than ever, he wishes it were anyone but Renee. He’s never wanted to see her less. 

Despite his mind’s protest though, despite his entire body screaming at him that this isn’t very simple at all, he gets up to answer the door. 

Renee looks exactly as she had last time, save for she wears a much cooler outfit, it being May rather than November. Her brown hair is still shocking and Neil still feels like he’s going to throw up with nerves. It isn’t helped by her lack of smile. Renee is almost always wearing a smile of some sort. 

“Hey, Neil.”

“Hey.”

It’s the first thing he’s said since he got off the phone with her last night. It should have been something to Kyle, but instead he was saying hello to Renee and letting her inside.

* * *

The goodbye is ugly and it is burned into Neil’s memory. 

They way Renee says she’s sorry to Andrew and Neil, standing side by side, twin pillars of grief. That she’ll fight for this. That this could have been it for Andrew and Neil, and she’s going to do everything she can to make sure it still can be. That his mom could fail on any number of home visits. That they already have his father, so they can make an appeal for his mother. 

The way that Kyle lets out a quiet sob into the space between Andrew and Neil’s shoulder, one arm around either of them. The way they both hug him back. The way Neil finally finds his voice for Kyle to say that Foxes stay family. No matter what. 

The way Andrew takes Neil’s hand in a white-knuckled grip as Kye loads the last of his bags into Renee’s car.

* * *

Neil folds himself into all the spaces that Andrew leaves for him that night. He’s not sure if he’s trying to disappear or if he’s trying to be closer to Andrew. It’s all really synonymous at this point, so he supposes it doesn’t matter. 

There, with a house full of silence and a bed full of pain, Neil whispers, “I want to go to the ocean.” 

He knows Andrew hears it, and he assumes he ignores it. Andrew is well aware which coast Neil is talking about, and Andrew told Neil years ago he wouldn’t go there. Neil know that—but he lost something tonight, and he wants to feel that. He doesn’t want to numb himself to it, and he doesn’t want to lose the feeling.

It’s a few minutes of Neil knowing he shouldn’t have said it, but not finding it in himself to regret saying it before Andrew says, “Okay.”

* * *

The ocean is empty. He knows it is because twenty years ago he told the FBI where he buried his mother and they dug her up. It doesn’t matter though. It feels like everything he’s ever lost is sitting here on this beach beside he and Andrew. 

Even Seth Gordon. 

In the sand, their knees pressed together and hands entangled, the tears find Neil again. Their heads are huddled together in a pain they don't know what to do with. The two of them know the system and they know its cheats. And they have no legal right to Kyle, so it's all useless. Not hopeless, but useless.

There’s something to fight for, but right here, right now, on this goddamned beach, it’s all useless.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr: [@howdydarlin](http://howdydarlin.tumblr.com).
> 
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> **  
> **  
> [Want a commission of your own?](https://howdydarlin.tumblr.com/post/173216651556/howdydarlins-writing-commissions-hey-yall-im)  
> 


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